Sam awoke leisurely to the gentle rocking of the sea. He allowed himself to wake slowly, enjoying the sensation of sleep drifting and melting away as his mind surfaced to consciousness. When sleep was gone entirely, he waited a few moments more before opening his eyes.

He was lying on his back, covered in warm, fluffy blankets, dressed in a warm, silken night shirt and soft down trousers.

*Leave it to the elves to invent a boat that even I can enjoy* he though with a smile.

He stretched luxuriously, then sat up, throwing off his covers and swinging his legs over the side of his bed.

They'd been out at sea for a week now. He'd thought that all the time spent on the rocking boat would have made him weaker than he was, but to his surprise, it was not so. If anything, it was the opposite: every day he woke up feeling stronger, with more energy than he'd had the day before. In fact, he was no longer using his cane; since the third day out it had leaned against the wall in the corner of his room, unneeded. It seemed that some of his old strength was returning, perplexing as that was.

He stood up and walked over to the mirror. For the last three days he'd avoided looking at his reflection, wanting to find out if what he'd seen on the second day of the trip had been only his imagination or not.

The second day he'd awoken on the ship, he'd happened to glance into the mirror, and been shocked to see that some of the wrinkles on his face had faded. He'd stared incredulously at his reflection for several minutes before asking Glorfindel about it, but the elf had merely smiled at him. The next morning he'd looked even younger, and it had seemed that there were some streaks of brown in his white hair. The same happened the day after, and Sam had been certain he was going mad. So he'd resolved not to look in the mirror for a few days, to wait and see if there was a dramatic enough change to discount his theory.

Even without the mirror, though, he'd felt himself changing. It wasn't only that he was more energetic; the aches and pains that had become commonplace in his old joints were vanishing as well. His vision was growing clearer, and his strength was returning, and his voice, once wavering and feeble, was beginning to sound clear and strong as it hadn't for years. For all the world, he felt as though he were reverse-aging.

He closed his eyes as he reached the mirror and steadied himself on the dresser. After a few long moments and several deep breaths, he opened his eyes again.

What he saw made him reel backwards in shock in spite of his trying to prepare himself.

His wrinkled face was now far smoother; in fact, he didn't look a day over sixty. His hair was thicker, fuller, and there was definitely brown in it now. Indeed, there was more brown than white. The loose skin that had hung around his neck and jaw-line was disappearing, firming up again. The liver spots that had covered his hands and forehead were completely gone.

"You're losing your mind, Sam Gamgee," he muttered as he stared at the younger version of himself in the mirror.

"Not quite," came a voice from behind him.

He spun around and saw Glorfindel watching him with a small smile on his face.

"Glorfindel…what's happening to me?"

Glorfindel smiled again. "It's hard to say, Samwise," he replied. "You're becoming like us, though, is the short of it. We're heading for Valinor, after all. They aren't called the Undying Lands for nothing."

Sam nodded once, lost in his thoughts.

Glorfindel watched him a moment, then smiled.

"You're thinking of Frodo?"

Sam looked up, startled at how the elf had seemingly read his mind. "Yes," he said after a moment, turning to look back in the mirror. "I'm wondering if he…if he remembers me." He gave a small shaky smile then looked down at his hands.

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "You don't think he does?"

Sam shrugged, still staring at his hands. "Well, I…I don't know," he stammered. "I mean, after all, it's been nearly sixty years since I last saw him…"

Glorfindel walked up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"True friendship doesn't forget," he said quietly. "It doesn't matter how long it's been, or how much you've changed. Or, for that matter, how much he's changed. You both genuinely loved each other. Your hearts won't let you forget that."

Sam looked up and met Glorfindel's gaze through the mirror. "But what if he didn't feel the same way?" he whispered, feeling tears prick the corners of his eyes.

Glorfindel shook his head. "Is that really what you believe?" he asked softly.

Sam looked down again, remembering…and suddenly, the image of Frodo's face filled his mind.

Frodo…at Bilbo's birthday party, encouraging him to ask Rosie to dance, and pushing him into her arms when he started to chicken out…

Frodo…walking with him in Rivendell after the incident on weathertop, listening with a quiet smile as Sam told him about the Elves…

Frodo…telling him he was going to Mordor alone, trying to protect him…

Frodo…Smiling broadly at Sam's wedding, his eyes shining with happiness for his friend…

Sam sighed and looked down. "I guess not," he said.

Glorfindel squeezed his shoulder once. "Try not to worry, Samwise," he said. "I know Frodo will be waiting for you as eagerly as you await seeing him. Trust me."

Sam looked up and gave the Elf a grateful smile. "Okay," he whispered.

Glorfindel squeezed Sam's shoulder once more then walked back out of the room.

Sam looked at himself in the mirror for another long moment before shaking his head and turning away.

"Well, Samwise," he told himself, "it won't do no good to sit around worrying about it. Best see if there's anything as needs to be done on deck. Maybe you can help out with your newfound youth…"

Laughing at himself, he changed into his clothes and walked out of his cabin.

* * *